


Where it Belongs

by magickalmolly



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9239240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magickalmolly/pseuds/magickalmolly
Summary: Merry had come to realize he was all alone among the Rohirrim, and he felt undersized and out of place.





	

**Author's Note:**

> RotK spoilers if you haven't read the book!
> 
> Originally written December 7, 2003.

  
Merry bowed and went away unhappily, and stared at the lines of horsemen. Already the companies were preparing to start: men were tightening girths, looking to saddles, caressing their horses; some gazed uneasily at the lowering sky. Unnoticed a Rider came up and spoke softly in the hobbit's ear.

_'Where will wants not, a way opens,_ so we say,' he whispered; 'and so I have found myself.' Merry looked up and saw that it was the young Rider whom he had noticed in the morning. 'You wish to go whither the Lord of the Mark goes: I see it in your face.'

'I do,' said Merry.

'Then you shall go with me,' said the Rider. 'I will bear you before me, under my cloak until we are far afield, and this darkness is yet darker. Such good will should not be denied. Say no more to any man, but come!'

'Thank you indeed!' said Merry. Thank you, sir, though I do not know your name.'

'Do you not?' said the Rider softly. 'Then call me Dernhelm.'

Thus it came to pass that when the king set out, before Dernhelm sat Meriadoc the hobbit, and the great grey steed Windfola made little of the burden; for Dernhelm was less in weight than many men, though lithe and well-knit in frame.

_\-- From Return of the King, Book V, Chapter III, The Muster of Rohan_  
  
~*~*~*~

Huddled in his cloak to fight off the evening's chill, Merry sat by himself and watched the men all around set up camp. He had offered to help at first; he could carry water or hammer a tent stake as well as anyone else. But he was all together ignored, and after the first night, Merry had sullenly given up. They had been riding for three days now, following the rumors that came to them as they followed the edge of the marshes on their way to Minas Tirith, and Merry was simply too tired to try to get himself noticed. 

But Merry was lonely, very much so, and his mind turned to thoughts of Pippin. He missed his cousin's constant chatter at this moment more than he ever thought he would. He missed everything about Pippin; the sight of his smile, the green of his eyes, his unending supply of enthusiasm. But simply hearing his voice was what Merry wanted most of all.

He was weary, both in his body and in his heart, and Merry could not ever remember a time in his life when he had no one to talk to. But as weary as he was, he knew sleep would not come to him, not yet. To give himself something to do, Merry watched the Rohirrim around the campsite speak to one another instead. Conversing in hushed tones about the battle before them, their worried expressions were easy for Merry to see even in the evening's darkness. 

Unable to sit any longer, Merry rose from his spot on the ground and went in search of Dernhelm. The young Rider had not spoken to Merry since his offer to let Merry ride with him, but neither had he stopped Merry from speaking when he chose, and for that Merry was grateful. The hobbit's one-sided conversations almost seemed to cheer the reclusive lad, and Dernhelm's silent attention soothed Merry's uneasiness. Over the last few days, Merry had come to realize he was all alone among the Rohirrim, and he felt undersized and out of place. When he had traveled with the rest of the Fellowship, he hadn't considered himself so. Frodo and Sam had been there, for comfort and companionship. And Pippin had been there as well. With Pippin, Merry had never felt lonely.

Dernhelm was found easily enough, sitting by himself, as Merry had been, his back against a tall tree. Merry approached him quietly, worried that perhaps Dernhelm would send him away. But Dernhelm raised his eyes from under his helmet and nodded once in silent answer to Merry's unasked question.

"Thank you. I'd certainly appreciate the chance to sit and talk with you on this cold and gloomy night."

Merry sat himself down next to Dernhelm, but instead of talking right away, he fell into a thoughtful silence, and studied his companion from the corner of his eye. For the first time in days, Merry didn't feel quite so small. Even though they rode together on Windfola, the whole of Merry's attention was on maintaining his precarious seat, and he hadn't had the time to notice Dernhelm's stature. But now, seated side-by-side on the ground like this, Merry was surprised to notice that Dernhelm was not nearly as large as any other Rider in their company, and Merry wondered about his age. He did not know very much about when a human lad was considered an adult, but Merry guessed Dernhelm was very close to the line. 

Thinking of young lads brought his thoughts to Pippin once again, and Merry's hand slipped inside his leather jerkin with a lonely sigh. He unconsciously caressed the small paper tucked in there, and it wasn't until he felt Dernhelm's eyes watching him that he realized what he was doing. 

Carefully, Merry extracted the paper from where it rested, and displayed it to his silent companion with a gentle smile.

"This was a gift from someone very special to me. Pippin – I'm sure you've heard me talk of him before – he is in Gondor now. Well, I suppose he is, at any rate. I had no chance to say good-bye to him before he was gone, and I don't know when I will see him again."

Merry had almost said _if_ instead of _when_ , and he cringed at his own slip of phrase. But if Dernhelm had noticed, he didn't show it. He only sat listening, and Merry felt compelled to fill the silence.

Scooting a little closer, Merry unfolded the old paper, and it was obvious that it had been handled many times, the paper itself dirty around the edges, soft looking and worn. Merry opened it gently, taking his time to do so with a light touch. When he showed it to Dernhelm, he presented it as if it were the finest parchment. 

Dernhelm studied the paper for a long moment, one eyebrow lifting under his helmet in silent question. The markings were so faded with age that they were hardly discernable. Merry laughed at this, softy and with a touch of embarrassment, feeling as if he should explain.

"Pippin and I have been companions since the day he was born, it seems. If you are interested, I will tell you the story of this paper, and why it is so precious to me now."

A silent nod was Dernhelm's only reply, but it was enough to put a grateful smile on Merry's face. He leaned in and began to tell his tale...

~*~*~*~

_Brandy Hall, 1395_

Huffing in irritation, Pippin threw his pencil down and crossed his arms with a sullen frown. Across the room, Merry sat writing in his journal, and he raised his head at the sound of wood clattering to the floor. Pippin's expression was fierce, and Merry held his tongue when he felt he should chastise his little cousin for not taking better care of his writing supplies. Instead, Merry slipped from his chair and padded across the study quietly, stopping to kneel next to Pippin's chair and retrieve the pencil from where it lay at Pippin's feet.

"I think you dropped this." Merry's voice was gently teasing, but Pippin refused to uncross his arms, let alone take the offered writing tool from Merry's hand. After a moment Merry set the pencil on the old writing board balanced across Pippin's lap, his own mouth curling down into a slight frown.

Merry looked over to the paper Pippin was working on and instantly saw why he was so upset. On the page had been printed each letter of the alphabet. Next to each letter was a blank space for Pippin to fill in. The few letters Pippin had copied were shaky and unpracticed; hardly resembling the precise letters already there. Looking up to Pippin, Merry was surprised to see the beginnings of tears in the young hobbit's eyes. 

"Here now; what's all this about?" Pippin tried to turn away, but Merry was quicker, wrapping one arm around Pippin's slim shoulders and slipping the writing board from Pippin's lap with the other. The board was set aside and Merry tipped Pippin's chin up, forcing his little cousin to look at him.

"I can't do it," Pippin snuffled miserably. His green eyes were open and wet, and he looked up to Merry with an expression that threatened to break Merry's heart.

Merry pulled Pippin from his chair with a soft sound of understanding, and cuddled Pippin onto his lap. Pippin pressed his face into Merry's chest as he began to cry, and Merry could hear the frustration in his tears. He rocked Pippin in his arms for several long moments, then fished his handkerchief out from where it was crumpled up in the pocket of his breeches. He dried Pippin's eyes and nose with it gently, and gave him a soft kiss to his forehead.

"You know, Pip, it was very hard for me to learn my letters." Pippin's eyes narrowed in disbelief at this, and Merry nodded with a serious look. Holding Pippin close, he rose from their spot on the floor and carried Pippin over to where he had been sitting at the desk.

Merry plopped himself into the chair with a huff, Pippin snug on his lap, and he slid his journal over closer to the edge of the desk. Pippin peered over at the pages, full of words he couldn't read yet, but he could see Merry's neat handwriting. His mouth curled down, the beginnings of a pout apparent. Seeing Pippin's sour expression, Merry leaned in close over Pippin's shoulder, looking at the page with him and spoke softly.

"Look, Pip, Here is how I can write today. But if you look back at the beginning of this book..." and Merry flipped quickly through pages until he reached some of the first few. "You can see my letters here aren't very good at all."

Looking carefully, Pippin did see a difference; these letters were larger, messier, and there were several spots where Merry obviously had had some trouble with his quill. The splotches of ink made Pippin giggle, and he touched them with his chubby fingers.

Merry laughed when Pippin did, tightening his arms around Pippin's middle and cuddling him close. Pippin's face was still flushed with his recent tears; his cheeks and the tip of his nose stained pink. But his eyes were happy and bright once again, and Merry sighed in relief at having turned his cousin's mood around so quickly. It was no small feat, shaking Pippin from a disagreeable disposition, and Merry smiled to himself in satisfaction. 

Determined to keep Pippin's spirits up, Merry reached across the desk again, and retrieved a pencil. He offered it to Pippin as he flipped his journal to an empty page. 

"Here, Pip. I'm going to teach you how to write something awfully important, all right?" Pippin took the pencil with a doubtful look, but Merry covered Pippin's hand with his own, and led it to the blank page. Carefully, guiding Pippin's hand to make the characters slowly and neatly, Merry wrote 'P I P P I N'. When they were done, Pippin looked at the page silently for a long moment, then his face split into a wide smile.

"That's me!" Pippin laughed, and he wriggled on Merry's lap in excitement. "Now you, Merry. Teach me to write your name."

"Of course, of course, Peregrin, my lad." Merry blustered like Pippin's father, and Pippin broke out into giggles as he let Merry guide his hand across the page again. Together they wrote 'M E R R Y' further down on the page, and Pippin grinned proudly.

"See, Pip? It just takes practice." But Pippin had leaned over the journal again, and Merry couldn't see what he was writing from behind Pippin's coppery curls. 

A few moments later Pippin set his pencil down with a satisfied nod, and handed the journal to Merry so he could look. He settled back against Merry's chest, and pointed to the page, explaining what each thing was. 

"This is the sun up here, but I made that one line too long, so don't look at that one. And these down under your name are daisies, just like in Auntie's garden, and I made five of them 'cause that's how old I am. I would've made fourteen for you 'cept they wouldn't all fit. And... and this is a heart, and I put it in the middle because. Well, because that's where it belongs."

Merry was silent for a long moment, his eyes traveling over the page again and again. He was surprised to find that he didn't quite know what to say. Everything that Pippin was to him was right there, perfectly illustrated in a few simple lines. The daisies were large and uneven, some having more petals than the others, and heart was crooked, smudged a little from when Pippin had pointed to it. But despite these minor imperfections, or perhaps because of them, Merry thought it was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. 

"Pippin, this is now my most favorite page in my whole journal." Merry lay the book back on the desk carefully, and he and Pippin gazed at it for several moments, the both of them smiling. A growl from Merry's belly broke the peace, however, and Pippin laughed out loud at the noise.

"Well, it must certainly be teatime. My belly is never wrong." Merry laughed as well, but softly, and chanced a peck to his young cousin's cheek before Pippin wriggled out of his lap. He was both pleased and surprised when Pippin didn't rub the kiss away.

Still laughing, Pippin took Merry's hand in his own, half pulling his older cousin out of the study and straight to the kitchen.

~*~*~*~

Merry sat silently for several moments once he was done with his story. He felt overwhelmed with longing; for the Shire, for his family, and most of all for Pippin. His Pippin; his own sweet lad. Merry's fingertips traced the now faded heart on the paper he still lovingly held, and a soft smile pulled at the corners of his mouth even as he blinked away the moisture that gathered in his eyes. His head tipped forward a bit, sandy curls falling across his cheeks, and Merry let himself drift in memories of happier times. 

It wasn't until he felt a gloved hand rest on his shoulder that Merry remembered where he was. He raised his head again to find Dernhelm watching him, and a flush spread to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

"Please forgive me. A soldier such as yourself must think something like this to be rather silly." Merry's words were murmured faintly, not really chastising himself for his own show of emotion, but trying to make light of it all the same. But Dernhelm only shook his head, offering Merry's shoulder a comforting squeeze before rising from his place on the ground. He spoke softly then, and Merry was surprised to hear his words.

"You must keep hope." Dernhelm met Merry's upturned gaze, holding it for a long moment, then he turned on his heel and walked away. His cloak trailed behind his slight frame as he disappeared into the darkness of the trees surrounding the campsite. 

Merry watched Dernhelm until he couldn't see the young Rider anymore, then let his eyes drop to the paper he still held in his hand. Dernhelm's words replayed over in his mind, and Merry was surprised when he felt himself smile. He _would_ keep hope, if not for his own sake, then certainly for Pippin's. Pippin deserved sunshine and daisies, with love right in the middle of it all. And Merry, for his part, would make sure Pippin had them once again.

Not feeling quite so small, Merry gently re-folded the paper and tucked it back into his jerkin, right over his heart. 

~fin~


End file.
